The Fall of the Phoenix

Chapter Thirteen

by TT (a.m.tilmouth.s99 at cranfield.ac.uk)

Tennyson flipped through his homework without actually seeing the pages. School had not been good; he had been berated more than once for not paying attention and Deidre and Wiggins, although they had tried, could do nothing to cheer him up. His aunt was also worried; he could tell by the looks she was giving him as he sat in his chair trying to work.

Miss Fayre was indeed worried. She had prayed for help and guidance for most of the night and apart from lifting her spirits slightly it had not helped her nephew. Watching Tennyson so sad and depressed was breaking her heart; she had even tried to contact Mr Holmes for suggestions, but he was unavailable.

There was a knock at the door. Miss Fayre wiped her wet hands on a dishcloth and went to answer it, she glanced at her nephew he had hardly moved from an hour ago. She shook her head and opened the door.

Tennyson had heard the door but choose to ignore it. He was having trouble concentrating; for some reason he felt restless. Putting his computer to one side he rubbed his eyes. Footsteps came towards him from the hall -- two sets, one slower than the other. They came through the door to the living room and stopped. Tennyson looked up, and saw her, tired and slightly worn but smiling. Tessa stood before him gripping onto Peter Ling’s arm.

'Am I in the right room?'

'Whurrr.'

'Little bro.' Tessa let go of Ling and felt about in the air around her until she came in contact with Tennyson’s chair and knelt down. Tennyson wrapped his arms round her neck and pulled her closer. Only when their noses were touching did he see her eyes over the dark glasses she wore; they were so pale blue they were almost white.

As if she felt his gaze she smiled and kissed his cheek. 'Missed you, little bro. Come on, we have much to talk about.'

Outside, Holmes got back into the sky car and strapped himself in as Watson slipped the car into first and took off.

'Do you think she’ll ever see again, Holmes?'

Holmes sighed and rested his head against the headrest. 'The doctors said that it was possible; with treatment and time her eyesight might improve. It is unlikely, however, that she will go back into racing for quite some time. It sickens me that in a way Jut got his wish, not that that helps him much now. Lestrade should be arresting one of the prison wardens for murder about now. It seems that Scar has an extensive operation.'

'And Moriarty?'

Holmes looked out of the car window and stared at the passing city. 'He’s alive, and we will meet again.'

Outside the Fayre house, hidden by the high fence at the back, white-streaked hair blowing in the slight breeze, the hunter watched.

THE END

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